


Together

by Steadfxst



Series: On the Same Page [2]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: Jim knows how lucky he is to have two people in his life who care this deeply about him. If only that fact didn't make him feel so darn guilty.





	Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Doesyourmotherknowyoureanon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doesyourmotherknowyoureanon/gifts).



Jim and Bob are eating breakfast—bran cereal for Bob and scrambled eggs for Jim—when Jim suddenly perks up. Bob watches his head fractionally tilt towards a sound and his back and shoulders set themselves a little straighter. Jim catches Bob watching him over his morning paper so he fills him in.

“Patrice’s taxi jut pulled onto our street.”

Bob quirks an eyebrow.

“You can hear all the way down the street.”

Jim shrugs and stands to go to look out the window so he could help her with her things when she reached the house.

“It’s just one of my weird omega things, I suppose. Heightened senses and all of that. Sometimes it’s my hearing; sometimes it’s my sense of smell. It varies, but it’s always been like this during my heats.”

His cheeks flush pink at the mention of it. Even considering what they had done together and the fact that Bob was still here, it felt awkward discussing it in the light of day.

“Shame that they used to keep omegas out of the military. Being able to hear a pin drop would’ve come in mighty handy.”

Jim nods. He is glad that he changed the topic, even if the new topic is a little touchy in a different way. It was a shame, a damn shame, the way marginalized people were treated in this country. Many people still thought he shouldn’t be in such a high-ranking government position.

“She’s here. I’m gonna go help her with her bags,” Jim says.

He puts his hand on the doorknob when Bob reaches out to stop him.

“You stay here,” Bob says. “I’ll go help her.”

“She’s my wife, Bob. My mate.”

“I understand. You’ve got the right instinct, but your head is clouded. You can’t go out there with an unchecked heat in full swing. What would your neighbors say? Or the driver?”

Jim’s hand drops from the knob. He was right. No matter how far society had come, it was 2005 and there were still social expectations for omegas in heat. Especially ones that forwent suppressants.

“I’ll go help her. You finish your breakfast.”

Not one to disobey an order, especially on from a superior alpha, Jim does.

 

* * *

 

Patrice drops her carry-on in the foyer the second she steps through the door. She rushes to Jim’s side and throws her arms around her husband.

“I’m here,” she murmurs. “I’m here, Jim.”

Jim wraps his arms around his wife and presses his face into her neck. He’s sorry for making her worry, and he’s sorry for making her feel obligated to come home on an earlier flight. But god, is he grateful to have her home. Her comforting, familiar scent makes fresh slick run down his thighs, and he moans softly.

Bob re-enters with suitcase. He pauses in the doorway at the tableau before him.

“Well,” he says, putting the suitcase down. “I think you two have some catching up to do. I’ll see myself out.”

Jim pulls back from their embrace to look at Patrice. He finds himself torn between desperately wanting to be alone with his wife and wanting Bob to stay.

“Don’t be silly,” Patrice says. “You’re more than welcome to stay. Especially after everything you’ve already done for us.”

Bob inclines his head forward in an old-fashioned show of deference to the “superior” alpha in the room. Jim watches Patrice’s face light up. Bob could be quite gallant; Jim completely understands the appeal.

“I’ll stay if that’s what Jim wants, too.”

Patrice turns back to face him.

“What do you want, Jim?”

Jim licks his lips, suddenly overwhelmed at the prospect of having two alphas care for him at once.

“I—I’d like Bob to stay.”

Bob mulls it over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of staying. Jim is nervous until finally, he nods.

“Okay, Jim.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“But,” he says. “I need to go get some things from home. And I should let Ann know that I’ll be staying longer than I expected.”

Jim’s eyes widen.

“She’s not bothered by this, is she?” Jim asks.

He chastises himself for not thinking of her sooner. That was very selfish of him.

Bob smiles in spite of himself.

“No, she’s not bothered. We’re both alphas, you know. That urge to serve and protect has—Well, it’s run both ways. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Jim blushes again at the thought of the Muellers taking care of the omegas who were close to them. He feels an ache in stomach at the thought of being one of the lucky ones. Lordy, he was in the thick of it now.

“Ann is a special lady,” Patrice says.

“That she is. She and I have some catching up to do, but I’ll be back by dinner time,” he tells Jim. To Patrice, he says, “Think you can handle him while I’m gone?”

Patrice smiles and laces their fingers together.

“I’ll think I’ll manage.”

Bob winks, and Patrice walks him to the front door. She watches him climb into his car before she closes the door. She immediately goes back to Jim’s side and he trembles.

“Well,” she says expectantly.

“Well,” Jim replies.

He tugs at his collar.

He was already sweating again.

“Bedroom?” she asks.

“Bedroom,” he agrees.

 

* * *

 

“Jim?”

Jim stirs against his pillow, eyes slitting open, still thick with sleep. He sees his beautiful wife smiling tiredly down at him.

“Hm?” he asks.

His arms reach out to her and pull her in. She kisses him for a moment before gently pulling away. Patrice cups his cheek in her hand, mirroring Bob from yesterday.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better.”

He feels his dick harden at the memories of what they had just done. He brings a hand down to touch himself with no real purpose or drive like he’d felt before. He always felt less hurried after being properly taken care of. Patrice kisses him, and he longs to rut with her once more.

“I hate to make you wait, but I’m just gonna hop into the shower real quick, okay? Bob will probably be here soon. Are you up to letting him in?”

Jim chuckles, hand stilling.

“You’re acting like I’m an invalid. It’s just a heat. And a mild one at that.”

“You could've fooled me,” she jokes.

He feels his face heat.

“Fair enough,” he says.

Patrice smiles in victory before pecking him on the cheek and exiting their bed. He watches her walk into their master bath and wonders how the hell he got to be so damn lucky.

Jim settles back onto his pillow when he hears the water from the shower run. If he closes his eyes, it’s easy to imagine it’s the sound of rain hitting the shutters…

 

* * *

 

“… _supposed_ to let you in.”

A chuckle.

“He’s worn out.”

“He said it was a mild one.”

“Well, after what we’ve been through at DOJ…”

“Whatever it is, he’s kept mum.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Jim stretches and opens his eyes. Bob was sitting on the side of his bed, and Patrice was standing in front of him in her bathrobe. Her hair was still slightly damp, and he wonders how long he’d been asleep for. Regardless, it was impolite to eavesdrop, so he makes himself known:

“It’s not polite to talk about people like they aren’t in the room.”

“Well, look who’s decided to join us,” Patrice teases. “You were supposed to let Bob in, remember?”

“Sorry, Bob,” Jim says sheepishly.

Bob indulges him with a half-smile and pats his leg above the blanket.

“No harm done.”

“Are you hungry, Bob? I was gonna make some spaghetti for dinner.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I decline. Heats tend to make me lose my appetite.”

“Of course, Bob. What about you Jim?”

“I’m alright, dear. I’m too comfortable.”

“Well, I’m starving,” she declares, hands on hips. “You two get cozy.”

“We will,” Bob says.

Patrice winks and shuts the door behind her.

“How are you feeling, Jim?”

“Sore,” he admits.

Bob’s brows furrow in concern.

“What kind of sore?”

“The best kind,” Jim says, stretching again.

Bob’s face softens.

“I see.”

Patrice was good at keeping the cramps at bay, Jim thinks. She was good at satisfying that deep-seated desire he felt to fill or be filled. It had been nearly two years since the last time he had shared a heat with her, and he was happy to find that they had quickly and easily fallen back into their old rhythms, borne of nearly four decades of being mated.

Bob toes off his shoes.

“Alright if I join you?” he asks.

“Of course.”

Jim watches him strip down again—he keeps his undershirt on this time—and climb in next to Jim. The guilt from yesterday suddenly returns as Jim pictures Ann at home in her marital bed, all alone.

“I’m sorry, Bob,” Jim says.

Bob adjusts the pillow under his head.

“For what, Jim?”

“For keeping you from you wife. And from the Bureau. And from all the other people out there who really need you. I mean, it’s bad enough Patrice came home early, but now I’ve made you skip out on work and your wife twice in as many days, and for what? To—to coddle me? It—it just doesn’t feel right.”

Bob looks stricken at his words.

“If I thought there was somewhere else I should be, I’d be there.”

“Sure, maybe out of a sense obligation, but—”

Bob cups a hand over his mouth, and Jim stops talking. Bob doesn’t say anything. He just holds his hand there, eyes locked on Jim’s, until Jim lets the words sink in properly. Jim swallows hard, and Bob pulls his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says.

“The only apology I’m looking for is for you to let us take care of you.”

Jim smiles.

“I think I can do that.


End file.
